


Blackouts

by Pumpkinnubbin



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, Maria is the best, Panic Attacks, blackhill - Freeform, but also totally shippy, cute shit, friendship fic, you can really read it as either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 08:44:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19460461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pumpkinnubbin/pseuds/Pumpkinnubbin
Summary: Blackouts and Natasha Romanoff don’t mix well. It’s good then that Maria understands and knows how to help. It’s also good that Natasha isn’t too stubborn to accept the help.





	Blackouts

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea and then it just kind of went places. I also wrote this on my phone and am posting it from it because I’m on a cruise so I’m sorry if there’s mistakes or formatting issues. I’ll fix everything once we’re back home. 
> 
> This is, as per usual regarding BlackHill fics, for Charlie.

Natasha is walking through a hallway in the mansion with Hill, discussing something nonsensical, when the power cuts all of a sudden and leaves them in the dark. She freezes. Logically, she knows a blackout is harmless and can happen. Logically, she knows there’s no reason to panic, or freeze. Logically, she knows Maria is with her. She can still feel her presence next to her, hear her muttering to herself. Logically, Natasha knows they have back up generators that will kick in any second and bring the lights back on. She knows all of this. She just can’t help it. She tries to focus on her breathing - in, out - but it’s difficult. She doesn’t hear Maria calling her name and is completely unprepared for the hand that gently settles on her shoulder. She hears words, a concerned voice all the way through the haze that’s in her brain. Instinct takes over and she grabs the hand and shoves the body attached to it - Maria’s - against the wall. She pins her there, wrist against the wall and Natasha’s hand pushing against her throat. All she hears is her own heartbeat but she realizes there’s no resistance coming from Hill, just carefully calculated breaths and a soft whisper of her name. Natasha blinks; once. Then again, and again. She moves her hand away from the throat it’s holding and a little ways down to rest against Maria’s collarbone. It takes another ten seconds for her to come back to reality. She lets go abruptly and heads the other way, back to her own quarters. By the time the lights come back on half a minute later, Natasha’s long gone. Maria breathes deeply, rubbing her slightly sore throat and wrist and staring down the hallway. She has no idea what just happened. It’s not like Natasha to just lose it like that. She still has a job to do though so she goes to check what’s happened with the power. She’ll check on Natasha afterwards.

It takes longer than Maria’s anticipated. There’s been no sign of Natasha whatsoever. She goes by her quarters an hour later and knocks. There’s no answer and the door is locked. She tries her luck calling her through the door but she can’t hear any movements coming from the other side. Maria is sure the redhead is inside though. She’s stopped by the gym, just in case, and the shooting range and Natasha hasn’t been at either places.

“Natasha, I know you’re in there.”

She waits. It’s another full minute and twenty-six seconds later that the door opens. Maria pushes it open all the way and lets herself in before closing it again behind her. She can’t see Natasha anywhere at first. The room is barely lit. She has a look around and finally spots Natasha huddled against the back of her couch, knees drawn up against her chest and her arms wrapped around them tightly. She’s breathing deeply, eyes shut. Maria recognizes her behaviour easily. She’s gone through it herself plenty of times. She steps closer to her, making sure the flooring carries the sound of her footsteps, and then sits down next to her. She leaves some space between them as to not crowd Natasha. Natasha doesn’t react to her presence. She sits still, focused on her breathing. That’s been the most difficult part this past hour: breathing. It’s such a simple, effortless thing to do and yet she keeps choking on the lump in her throat and her inability to draw in breath. She doesn’t remember the last time it’s been so bad.

“Hey,” Maria says softly, “You’re okay. Breathe, Natasha.”

She barely hears it the first two times. Eventually, Maria’s voice makes it through and her breathing evens out to something more regular, more normal. She’s still tense but her shoulders sink a little with a particularly shaky exhale and she finally rests her head back against the couch. Maria watches her closely to make sure she’s alright before she dares speak up again. 

“You okay?” 

“Are you?” Natasha asks back.

She rolls her head to the side and opens her eyes to take in the state of Maria. She looks alright but her throat is a little red and Natasha knows that’s her fault.

“I’m fine. What happened?”

“Ghosts.”

Maria realizes that’s all she’ll get out of her and nods slowly. She doesn’t need to pry for more. Maria has her own ghosts.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

She smiles a little at Natasha’s frown. She’s come a long way but in some regards Natasha is still the same person as Natalia.

“I’ve got my own ghosts, Natasha. I hated talking about them. I get it. But if you do ever want to talk about it, come find me.” 

Natasha nods slowly, furrowing her brow with a rare openness that Maria’s never seen before. Natasha thinks about it, considers the offer and the implications if she accepts it. She’s never really thought about their relationship before. Taking in the woman she’s assaulted a little over an hour ago, she wonders. They’re colleagues, still. Are they friends? Yes, she thinks, they must be. But they’re not close enough for this. She trusts Maria with her life but not her past. Not yet. It’s too much and she no longer wishes to dwell on it.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she says eventually.

Maria simply nods back. She doesn’t move. Natasha may not want her company and she probably doesn’t need it either but Maria is willing to sit it out with her until the last of the haunted look leaves the redhead’s eyes. She knows how much a silent and familiar presence can help with that. Natasha says nothing more and moves her head back to close her eyes once more. She doesn’t let herself forget about Hill’s presence this time. She’s here, radiating heat off her and it’s that warmth that Natasha chooses to focus on.

They sit in silence for another twenty minutes. Natasha eventually gets up and stretches. Maria watches her from the floor.

“Thank you.”

Maria gets up, taking the gratitude as her cue to leave. She pauses at the door, giving Natasha one last look to make sure she really was okay, and then finally leaves.

 _Ghosts_.

Of course Maria wonders; of course she’s curious. Her best bet is the Red Room but she knows nothing more of it. Natasha’s never shared. She’s never asked. She hopes Natasha will feel comfortable to tell her some of it one day.

* * *

They don’t speak about any of it. Neither mentions Natasha’s attack on Maria, nor the state the latter found the redhead in later. Natasha eyes her curiously a few times over the next week, when nobody is around to see it. Maria doesn’t notice. She gives her some concerning glances back when no one else is nearby and Natasha definitely notices those. If it would be anyone else, she thinks she’d be irritated by it. She isn’t because Maria understands. Sure, she has no idea how bad it is or what happened, or where Natasha’s gone to in her head, but she gets it anyway.

* * *

It’s another week later that Natasha goes to seek her out. She finds Maria in her office and knocks against the door frame gently. It’s so quiet that Maria almost misses it.

“Hey.”

“Hey… Do you have a minute?”

Maria nods and finishes the report she’s working on while Natasha closes the door behind her and then comes to sit in the chair by her desk. 

“I’m sorry.”

Maria looks up sharply, surprised. She can count the times Natasha Romanoff has apologized to anyone on one hand. She puts her papers aside and turns the screen of her computer off to give the woman in front of her the attention she deserves.

“I could have killed you.”

“You didn’t.”

It’s not much of a reassurance. Maria looks at her intently, taking in the expression on her face. She knows that one. She gets up and rounds the desk and Natasha’s eyes follow her every move.

“We shouldn’t have this conversation here.”

Natasha watches her for a few more moments and then agrees. They walk to Natasha’s quarters in silence. It’s not even been a question where they’ll go to. Maria wants her to be comfortable. Once inside, Natasha occupies one end of the couch and lets Maria have the other. There’s silence between them for a few more minutes. Maria is giving her all the time she needs.

“It was too dark too suddenly.”

“Where did it take you?”

Here, Natasha hesitates. She’s already decided she’ll talk about it but she’s never shared this particular story before. Not even with Clint. It’s weird that it’s not him but she hasn’t attacked him. She’s attacked Maria.

“Sometimes, they’d lock us up for days in these completely dark and isolated rooms. No sounds, no light, no food or water. Nobody else in there with you. They always waited until we were asleep before slipping in. I woke up to one of the instructors strangling me once. Another time he waited until I was awake before attacking me. I couldn’t see it was so dark and I couldn’t hear him either. I just tried to fend him off. He left me in that room, injured, for another two days. I only ended up there one other time, after a failed mission. I was already beaten so that time they didn’t even wait to punish me,” Natasha says steadily, then takes a deep breath, “So when the power went out, I got stuck there.”

Maria listens closely, taking in all the information Natasha shares, and even some she doesn’t. She doesn’t ask how old she was when it happened. She knows enough - has heard enough - to figure out Natasha must have been awfully young. It makes her angry. Natasha is a grown woman who has been through more than anyone could ever imagine and has come out on top of it all. She doesn’t need Maria’s anger. She just can’t help it. It reminds her and it’s so terribly unjust that Natasha never got to have a childhood. Or any kind of normal life. Part of her has always thought her to be above things like this; the stress and the fear and the panic. Now, to her, it just proves that Natasha is still human; a lot more human than she often gives herself credit for. Maria schools her features, keeping an understanding expression on her face and just enough sympathy in her eyes that Natasha won’t push her away.

“You thought I was one of them when I touched you,” Maria says, really more to herself than Natasha, “I’ll be more careful if anything like it happens again.”

“You don’t- You’re not mad?”

Natasha cringes at her own question. She wants to take it back immediately but she also wants to understand. Because, in theory, she understands that Maria can relate and that it wasn’t a conscious decision on Natasha’s part to attack her. In practice, she can’t understand how the woman isn’t at least upset with her. She could have killed her.

“No. If you wanted to kill me, I’d be dead. It wasn’t your fault. These things happen even if you’re not used to them, or you think they won’t. Get caught in just the right circumstances and they’ll happen. Natasha Romanoff or not. I could have noticed if it hadn’t been pitch black, and I would have approached you more carefully.”

Natasha openly stares at her for a solid seven seconds before blinking herself out of her stupor. She doesn’t get stuck in the past often. She doesn’t get panic attacks anymore. She’s never shared them with anyone, both during and after one, and Maria just _accepts_ it for what it is. She’s not telling her that it’s nothing and that she’ll get over it. Natasha isn’t sure what to do now. She doesn’t even know what she’s expected. What she does know is that she feels better.

“They always catch you by surprise, don’t they?” Maria says, and it’s not so much a question to Natasha as it is a mere statement, “You’re fine and the next moment you’re there and you don’t even know what happened or why it’s suddenly so difficult to breathe.”

“Yes…”

She wants to ask when Maria’s last one was. She doesn’t. Maria doesn’t ask about hers either.

“Thank you for telling me.”

“I thought you deserved to hear it after it caught you in the crossfire.”

Natasha smiles and it’s the first one Maria’s seen on her face since the incident. She returns it and they spend a few more minutes in amicible silence before Maria excuses herself and heads back to her office.

* * *

The thunderstorms start six weeks later. There’s heavy rain and stronger winds and less sun. It’s refreshing after the heat of the past few weeks but Natasha is already getting tired of them again. The weather impacts her routine and she hates it. She still hits the gym and goes on her runs but now it’s on a treadmill rather than the outside like she prefers. She feels stuck. Not to mention that half the facility will not shut up about how bad the weather is and how they all got soaked coming in this morning.

It’s late evening on the fourth day of nonstop storms that the power cuts out once more. Natasha is in the gym with a few others and instantly freezes. She shuts her eyes until it hurts and then opens them again, scanning her surroundings. There’s murmurs all around her but she doesn’t hear what anyone says. She half stumbles, half knows her way out of the gym and then she runs down the hallways and through the building until she stops in front of a door she’s not even really familiar with. It’s not her own door. It’s none of the Avengers who live here either. It’s Hill’s. She doesn’t knock, afraid of making any more noise than she already has by sprinting here. Instead, she slides down against it, her back resting against the door. She hugs her knees to her chest and breathes. There’s a lump in her throat and it burns when she can’t seem to catch enough air. She vaguely registers familiar sounding footsteps approaching a short while later but she still _can’t breathe_.

“Natasha?”

She knows that voice. It’s not one of _them_ but in her hazy state, she can’t place it anywhere else either. 

“Natasha.”

She rolls her head onto her knees and grips her hair tightly. Her breath is coming too fast and she can’t slow it.

“You’re okay, Natasha. You’re safe. It’s just a blackout.” 

She doesn’t ease her grip on herself and shakes her head instead. She still can’t breathe.

“Natasha, can you look at me? If you can hear me, look at me, okay?”

It takes a few seconds but then she moves her head to where the voice is coming from. Her eyes have long adjusted to the dark and she can make out the figure in front of her once she blinks a few times to focus.

“Hill?” 

Maria nods and lifts her hand between them so Natasha can follow its movement to her arm.

“You’re okay,” she repeats, “Breathe. In, and out.” 

The touch doesn’t set her off this time. It grounds her a little instead. She finally finds her breath with Maria’s help and relaxes ever so slightly.

“How about we go inside? You can get some water, maybe curl up in a blanket.”

Natasha nods once. Water sounds nice with how sore her throat feels and part of her wants to hide away for a little longer. From the Red Room, the panic attack, and people. Maria helps her up and blindly unlocks her door. She guides the way to her couch and sits Natasha down on it, then steps through the dark to get some water and a blanket. She doesn’t know if it’ll help. She knows it’s made her feel better before so it’s worth a try. Natasha accepts the water without another word and lets Maria drape the blanket around her. She sits down half a cushion away from her to give her space without being so far away that she can’t feel her presence anymore. The lights come back on a minute later and Maria has to blink a few times to adjust to the change. Natasha is quite the sight. She’s tugged the blanket a little tighter around herself and only her head is still poking out. If the circumstances were different, Maria would find it amusing. It’s almost cute.

“How did you know where I was?” Natasha asks once all her water is gone.

Maria has no idea. She’s figured Natasha might have another panic attack as soon as the power went out and then she just let her feet carry her forward. Her own quarters aren’t that far away from the rest of theirs but they’re not on the way either. It’s been a lucky guess more than anything.

“I didn’t,” she replies honestly.

Natasha watches her. She’s tired, exhausted really, but she feels okay. She doesn’t know why she’s come here herself so she doesn’t push for more from Maria. This whole situation is odd. She tugs the blanket tighter around her and curls up into the armrest. She just wants a moment to breathe and relax and not think about how she feels safe here.

Natasha dozes off. When Maria notices, she’s not sure what she should do about it. She quickly settles on letting her sleep and leaves the couch. This is definitely not something she was expecting. She grabs her laptop and goes to her bedroom to work without disturbing Natasha.

She hears no movement from the living space whatsoever so it comes as a surprise to hear the door open and close. She gets up, unsurprised to find her couch empty, safe for the blanket she’s given Natasha earlier. They won’t talk about this either, she knows. She’s okay with that.

Maria finds her in the gym the next morning, as expected. Natasha only pauses her exercise when the brunette stops right next to her. It’s still early enough for there to be no one else here. They’re alone. Maria holds out her hand without a word and Natasha frowns slightly. She holds her own out under hers when Maria raises an expectant eyebrow. She lowers her hand and Natasha twitches minutely when she feels the familiar weight Maria places in the palm of her hand.

“Just in case,” she says, then leaves again.

Natasha stares after her for several moments and then opens her hand to look at the item she’s holding. A key. The key to Maria’s quarters. She looks at it for a good minute before tugging it away safely. She appreciates the gesture. She also appreciates that Maria hasn’t made a big deal out of it.

* * *

It takes another month before Natasha makes use of the key Maria’s given her. It’s 2am and she can’t sleep. She’s tried the shooting range and the gym and it’s not enough. The remnants of her nightmare just won’t go away. She doesn’t really want to go back to her own rooms, though she does wish to be alone. Hill’s quarters, she thinks, offer a good compromise. She can be on the couch without alerting Maria to her presence. She can be alone without being alone. She opens the door quietly and slips inside, closing the door without a sound. It’s dark and she knows Maria isn’t in her office so she hopes that means she’s fast asleep. She makes her way to the couch and curls up on it. Everything here is different. The room smells different - coffee and lemon and just a hint of almond - and the couch feels different. There’s a different vibe here just from the way the furniture is arranged and the way the air travels through the space. Her thoughts linger on the scent in the air. It’s familiar and Natasha relaxes into the couch. She falls asleep without feeling quite so haunted anymore.

When she wakes up the next morning, she notices two things all at once. One: she’s warm and there’s something covering her. Two: it smells like coffee. She opens her eyes and makes note of her surroundings. There’s a blanket draped over her and a mug of coffee steaming on the table by the couch, both courtesy of Maria Hill. The woman in question is nowhere to be seen though. Natasha checks the time. It’s 7am. Maria is already at work. She decides not to linger on the fact that Maria has shuffled around the room with the blanket and the coffee and the making of said coffee without waking her up. She rubs her eyes with a sigh. The only other person she feels that comfortable around is Clint.

They don’t talk about it. They never talk about any of the things that happen. Natasha is grateful but she can’t help but wonder about it. Clint always asks her if she’s alright. Maria just looks at her the first time they see each other each time and that’s it. She needs to understand. She waits for her to be done with the class of latest recruits, leaning against the wall by the door. One by one the new kids leave until it’s just her and Maria.

“Hey.” 

Natasha nods her head and then pushes herself off the wall to join her. If there’s one thing she’s learned about Hill, it’s that the woman appreciates bluntness.

“Why do you never ask about any of it?”

It takes Maria a few moments to catch on. Truthfully, she’s wondered how long it would take for that question to come. Natasha always goes with the flow of whatever works best for her but she’s also one of those people who likes to know everything.

“Would you tell me if I did?”

“No.”

“Then why ask about it? You come when you need to and as long as it helps and you feel better after, I don’t need to know more.”

Natasha thinks about that. She does feel better every time she’s around Hill; every time she’s come to her when nothing else seemed to help. There’s implications of something here but she doesn’t think about those. She trusts Maria the way she trusts Clint and it’s like the thought has never occured to her before. It feels like a slap in the face now, it’s so obvious.

“I guess that really does make us friends then.”

Maria actually chuckles and nods her head.

“Took you long enough to catch on,” she smiles, “I don’t need to know every single thing that makes you tick. If you feel safe in my rooms, I’m not going to question it. I’ve got your back, even outside of work.”

If Natasha was a different person, she’d grab Maria and hug her tightly right now. Instead, her lips tug up into one of her trademark smirks and she nods before turning on her heels. They leave together, walking side by side and Maria picks up the conversation by asking her for some help training the new recruits. Natasha accepts right away. It’ll be fun.

* * *

Over the next month, Natasha finds herself back in Maria’s rooms five more times. She always sleeps on the couch and she always wakes up with a blanket and a cup of coffee within arms reach. Today is the sixth time that month that her feet carry her to Maria’s door. She unlocks it and it falls shut behind her a little louder than usual. Natasha’s battered and bruised from a mission that could have really gone better and has left her in a headspace that is anything but ideal. She steps past the couch for the very first time and makes it all the way to the bedroom. Here, she stops to breathe and lean against the doorframe. They’ve never talked about this before. Natasha has never needed more than the couch to crash on. She doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries. She blinks a few times, about to just turn around and leave when movement on the bed stills her. Maria lifts the blanket wordlessly and keeps holding it up until Natasha moves under it. There’s enough space on the bed for both of them without needing to touch and Maria is already back asleep by the time Natasha is comfortable. She stays on the offered side of the bed, eventually falling asleep herself.

Maria is still in bed with her when Natasha wakes up the next morning.

“What, no coffee?”

“You okay?”

In the early sun, Maria can just make out a few bruises marring Natasha’s face and neck. She reaches out to gently prod around the one on her cheekbone, assessing the damage. Natasha lets her. It’s the first time since her first panic attack that Maria is asking that question.

“You should see the other guys.”

Maria nods, pleased, and lets go of her again. She can’t imagine it was so bad that she needed to be here.

“Okay. How about breakfast then?”

Natasha slides out of bed and Maria watches closely. She hasn’t changed between coming back and coming to Maria’s. Her clothes have seen better days and Maria can make out a few more bruises on her legs as well as a couple of cuts through the back of the shirt she’s wearing.

“And maybe a change of clothing.”

Maria gets up too and checks for some clothes that might actually fit Natasha; a pair of pants especially. All she finds are some sweatpants that’ll do the trick and a tanktop that will be too long on Natasha but otherwise less obviously not her size than the rest of her shirts. She leaves to make some coffee for them, giving Natasha the time to change.

Maria smiles a little at the sight of Natasha in clothes that are too large for her. She puts the coffee down on the table and they sit together, drinking in relative silence.

* * *

They fall into a pattern after that night. Natasha comes to her rooms more often than before; after a mission, after a nightmare, after a too long day when she just wants to sleep. She comes to Maria and Maria lets her into her bed every time, without question. Natasha sleeps over at least a couple of times a week and they still barely talk about it. Natasha doesn’t want to bring it up and Maria is content just being able to help.

* * *

It’s weird then, when Natasha is on a mission that lasts several weeks, and Maria’s bed is only half occupied. She’s already gotten used to it and part of her misses the extra warmth. Another part of her is worried. Natasha is fine on her own, especially within the focus of a mission, but she likes checking for herself.

When she feels the familiar dip of her mattress three nights later, she rolls over to look at Natasha. She can’t read the expression on her face in the darkness but she lifts her arm without even thinking about it when the redhead scoots closer. 

“Welcome back,” Maria mumbles sleepily, holding her tight.

Natasha smiles into the crook of her neck. She’s has come a long way in trusting Maria since that first blackout. She doesn’t question the safety she feels in the taller woman’s arms, in her bed. She’s missed it these past five weeks. They fall asleep holding each other and Maria sleeps better than she has in a long time. Natasha does too.


End file.
